


Virtue's End

by sighodinson



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sighodinson/pseuds/sighodinson
Summary: The first two murders happen weeks apart; one broad daylight, the other under the cover of night.The first time, people watch and stare at the body because that’s what fear demands.The second time, the body isn’t found until well into the next afternoon. The killer is pleased.Three hours after the first murder, Detective Steve Rogers watches from a cafe table near the crime scene, wondering how the nation’s best cops are unable to find nothing but a single coin as a clue to who the perp is.Eight hours later, Y/N Y/L/N catches word of a killer that sounds all too familiar to one that’s plagued her since her last case closed, since she quit her job for a life she could control. She’s got information and newfound motivation to return but no official jurisdiction. However, she’s never followed rules before—why start now?Twelve hours later, the killer strikes again. Two more murders, two shabby homes ransacked but nothing taken. Yet again, no clue is found as to who is responsible. Nothing but a single coin.Assigned to the biggest case in years, can the detectives, one assigned, one estranged, put aside their differences long enough to catch the perpetrator?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: murder, smoking, references to alcohol, references to prescription drug abuse, depictions of Alzheimer’s, eventual smut, swearing, murder, descriptions of crime scenes, mentions of blood, guns

  Table of Contents: 

                                  - [Prologue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200634/chapters/40444823)

                                  - Chapter One [coming soon]

                                  - Chapter Two

 


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time the killer strikes.
> 
>  
> 
> Steve Rogers x Reader [buddy cop au]
> 
> A/N: I’m super excited about this series. If you like it, please leave feedback. (Updates will be slow because of life.)
> 
> Consider supporting a broke college student: https://ko-fi.com/K3K88AU0
> 
> Prompt: The first time a killer strikes. 
> 
> Warnings: murder, smoking, references to alcohol, references to prescription drug abuse, depictions of Alzheimer’s

 

> ** Last week  
>  Thursday, 9 A.M. **

** A WOMAN DIED.  **

Rather, she was murdered. 

No one would know until about two weeks from the day that the victim’s daughter would thrown a wet clump of earth over the coffin, babbling incomprehensible phrases about never apologizing about  _something._

Aged seventy-four, she was in good health, a non-smoker who rarely ever drank. She’d gone out for a long walk—part of her before-work routine—and ordered her usual at a locally owned coffee-shop on the way back.

She hadn’t picked up her order nor had she gotten to work—that’s all everyone that loved her was told.

Her friends and family mourned, a funeral service was arranged—

Jessica Osborn was hopeful.

Of course, for a good ten minutes, she did put on a facade of utter dismay as she sobbed over the phone about a woman she rarely spoke to until she’d received the call.

She considered it practice. Good practice for learning to act accordingly for the business stage—she was absolutely certain that she’d convinced whoever the hell it’d been at the other end of the line of just how affected she was by the death.

Osborn was vaguely embarrassed by the fact that she was more thrilled than sad about the death but concerned a just little bit more about her career than anything, enough not to be too embarrassed but not enough to keep her face from heating up through the lie. 

If anything, this was an opportunity and she had to keep reminding herself that opportunity didn’t come knocking on wooden doors as often as drunken boyfriends looking for a place to crash did.

More than anything, Jessica Osborn feared being forgotten, written off into newspaper obituaries as just another casualty of a timeless consumer called death. Now, with the manager position unoccupied and an inheritance waiting, she was confident about taking one more step towards the life she’d dreamed of since her childhood. 

This was the first of many steps to get to the top. 

And she had been willing to take it.

But for now, she’d hide her face behind a pearl handkerchief and let false tears slip down her cheeks.

 

> **Now  
>  Sunday, 5 P.M.**

Jessica Osborn had always loved the stars.

They held a certain sort of childish wonder that brought her back to high school nights when she would spend hours wandering the town, not caring about the verbal lashing she’d receive the moment she opened the front door.

The stars were just beginning to shine when Jessica Osborn first felt someone’s piercing gaze.

It’d been a muggy day, a wave of heat settling over cement sidewalks, causing crowds to seek solace indoors in the Red Swan.

The restaurant and bar was a little busier than usual and some little, conceited part of Jessica wondered if the little extra income was even worth it considering what she was certain about getting the next day.

Dodging unruly patrons with newfound disgust, Jessica was halfway to the table she’d been serving when the skin on the back of her neck began to tingle. She’d been on the front lines of capitalistic warfare her entire life, sat in meetings with men too drunk on their money and power to bother paying attention to the presenter, those whose eyes sought out pretty assistants in tight pencil skirts instead—she knew when she was being watched.

At the afternoon hour, there was little room to breathe, much less to maneuver towards and around private corner booths occupied by large families in an attempt to lose whoever the hell was watching her.

So, she walked as if the gaze didn’t bother her.

By the time that Jessica’s shift allowed for a break, there was a sheen of sweat that covered her skin. Her uniform stuck to her like a second skin as she ducked into the kitchen, grabbing her overly costly smokes that she found herself indulging in much too often.

She’s got the cigarette lit before she’s stepped completely out the back door, disappointed at the fact the night air didn’t feel any cooler against her skin.

Jessica takes a long drag, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling out in a long plume, her head falling back against the brick wall at getting the hit she needed.

Her eyes seek out the stars, a smile tugging at her lips when she subconsciously begins to follow Orion’s Belt, years and years of watching the stars leading her immediately to the archer’s location.

She takes another slow inhale of the cigarette, letting the smoke wash over her tongue and into her lungs once more before exhaling slowly, letting the smoke obscure her sight of Orion for a moment before she’s cutting through it with a wave of her hand.

The tingling sensation of being watched doesn’t fade but Jessica Osborn focuses on her nicotine fix rather than the dark eyes trained on her in the darkness.

 

> **A few hours later  
>  Friday, 11 P.M.**

At 11 P.M., the streets of New York were still teeming with tourists wanting a taste of the city’s nightlife, or rather just another shot of tequila. 

Jessica Osborn walks as if she has nothing to fear, shared drinks with sneaky coworkers coursing through her blood.

She figures she should be used to her nightly walks and she is, but something about tonight, the heat and the way that the sky seems to press down on her, feels wrong.

She’d never been an avid believer in fate before—it was simply something woven into old wives tales told by her mother too often to get her to go to bed with a head full of dreams about priests that read the seas and princesses who fought their fate.

Fate was a lie and she’d stopped believing in it too long ago to be thinking about it now. Especially considering the icy spike of fear that traveled up her spine despite the humid night air.

She stops at the front door, curious enough to take a glance behind her to see if anyone seemed to be following her—she doesn’t find anyone nor does her hand come out with her keys on the first try as she shuffles through her bag.

Coming to a stop in front of her apartment building, Jessica presses the bell with one hand, the other continuing to feel for her keys. And although she’d never admit it if asked, her heart beat just a little faster as she rung the bell over and over again, hoping that her landlady Martha was spending yet another night awake, reminiscing the days her children seemed to care about her.

A triumphant huff parts Jessica’s lips as her hands close around her keys.

She spends little time sliding it into the lock and stepping into the building, pushing the door quickly shut behind her as she took a shuddering breath, something akin to a maniacal giggle leaving her lips as she slumps against the door.

She decides she’d have to tell her doctor this—get a little extra hit of something numbing between shifts but this time with permission.

Hell, she realizes—she’s got nothing else to lose, she could down a few more pills to pass the day and take one more step to get the money she so deeply believed she needed.

Taking a moment to breathe, she begins up the stairs, knocking at her landlady’s door and waiting for a moment before trying the doorknob to find the door already unlocked.

Frowning, Jessica steps in hesitantly past the threshold, calling out to the old woman that she was months behind on paying rent to, “Ms. Park?”

There is no response for a few moments before there’s a clatter of dishes in the kitchen, a meek voice ringing through the apartment, “Benny, is that you?”

Jessica exhales in relief, shutting the door and walking quickly into the kitchen to find the woman standing over the sink, unwashed carrots sitting the sink as she looks eagerly to the door.

The woman’s lips curl down in a deep frown when she sees Jessica, “Dear, you haven’t seen your father have you?” She asks.

“Ms. Park, your husband isn’t going to come home tonight.” Jessica whispers the same phrase she’d been telling her every time that she found herself in the woman’s home.

Her tone is defeated, soft as she soothes the woman, “I’m not your daughter. Your daughter is across the country. My name is Jessica. I’m one of your tenants.”

“No, no. I called her last night and she said she was coming today.” Martha Park insists, her voice growing steadily more strained.

“Ms. Park, you haven’t spoken with any of your children in years.”

There’s a tense silence that stretches between the two women as Ms. Park takes her time to register the situation—her face lights up in a wide smile seconds later.

“They’ll be joining us tomorrow then!” She remarks, “Would you like to stay for dinner today, Samantha? I’m making soup!”

At this point, Jessica had gotten used to being called by the names of Martha Park’s children—she sighs deeply, plastering on a smile that anyone other than Martha would’ve registered as being fake, “It’s a little late for dinner, Ms. Park. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“But it’s just dinner, dear! You’ll be out of here in no time!” The woman’s voice borders between encouragement and pleading as she rests her hands on Jessica’s arms.

Jessica shakes her head, pressing a hesitant kiss to the old woman’s forehead as her children might have done at one point, “Maybe tomorrow, Ms. Park. Please lock your door.”

With that Jessica begins to walk away, leaving Ms. Park watching her with a smile on her lips, “Do go to bed soon!”

Of course, it’s nothing more than a false promise but Jessica smiles, waves to her landlady before shutting the front door again, hoping that the woman remembered to lock her door thanks to some blessed miracle.

Right now, she couldn’t find the energy to wait outside the woman’s door until she heard the tell-tale click of the lock—she needed a long, cold shower to wash away the stress and sweat of the day.

She’s in a hurry to open her door, fumbling with her keys for a moment before her door is swinging open to reveal something that looked more like a crime scene than her apartment.

Once more, Jessica Osborn’s heart-rate skyrockets and her eyes go wide as she takes in the damage.

Broken glass decorates the floor in a menagerie of chaos, jagged edges catching at her carpet. A breeze, one that she’d long been craving as a reprieve from the heat, flutters the curtains that hang off a broken rod.

A loud swear leaves her lips and seconds later, her panic is interrupted by a smooth voice.

“Heads or tails, Jessica? It’s been a while since we’ve played.”

Jessica Osborn really did love the stars but by the time Ms. Park remembered her tenant’s late rent and found Jessica Osborn’s apartment trashed, it seemed to be too late for her to find Orion just one more time.

And by the time Detective Steve Rogers opened the new file sitting on his meticulously organized desk, two more civilians would have already been targeted.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider supporting a broke college student's work through comments, kudos or even donations at https://ko-fi.com/K3K88AU0.


End file.
